


The Polar Express: Another Epilogue

by telmer6



Category: Polar Express - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telmer6/pseuds/telmer6
Summary: This popped into my head one winter night after watching The Polar Express with my nephew. Whether or not it was obviously written at 3 in the morning is up for discussion.





	The Polar Express: Another Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head one winter night after watching The Polar Express with my nephew. Whether or not it was obviously written at 3 in the morning is up for discussion.

\--- Many years later ---

I sat alone in the last car of the train accompanied by a small suitcase, headed to visit my children and grandchildren for Christmas. As the storm-obfuscated forest rushed by outside my window, I toyed absently with the latch. Overcome by a wave of nostalgia, I opened the case and sifted through its contents till I found the object that had stirred in my memory: a child's night robe, worn thin with years, a small spot of sloppy stitching where a pocket had once torn. Carefully, my hand entered the pocket, and withdrew a small silver bell, tarnished with age.

I did not understand why I had brought this memento; old age makes us eccentric and sentimental. Regardless, the weight in my hand gave me comfort in the lonely train car, and it felt both cold and warm to the touch. Though I had long since been able to hear it, I was suddenly possessed by an urge to lift the bell to my ear. As my hand shook, I heard not the silence I had grown accustomed to, nor the beautiful ring I barely remembered, but a distantly familiar laughter that set my heart alight. Searching for its source, I turned my head to the back of the car to see a silhouette through the door of the observation deck. 

I moved to the rear of the car, and bracing myself to the cold, slowly opened the door to reveal an old woman, gazing into the night. She did not turn to meet my gaze, but as the door swung closed behind me, I glimpsed a child's nightgown, tattered with age, folded over her arm, flapping in the wind. As I stepped towards her, she extended a finger into the night; “look”.

As we stared into the storm, I could feel a massive presence beside us, but could see nothing but the snow and trees. Then, as she took my hand, I could see it racing along beside us, just beyond the trees: an ancient steam engine, its singular lamp carving through the storm. We stood and watched, hand in hand, as it passed us by, till the last of the cars approached, and I sighted a lone figure standing on the observation deck. He raised a mug (of what I can only assume to be hot chocolate) in greeting, as the train passed out of sight.


End file.
